
Class. 
Book. 






Gopyriglit]^'!^ 



CjOnfRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



PINE CONES 

AND 

CACTUS BLOOMS 




A Volume 

of Original Verse 

Composed by 

OSTORIUS GIBSON 



Crane & Co., Topeka, Ivans. 



Copyright 1922 

by 

08T0RIUS GIBSON, 

the Author. 

All rights reserved. 



fmi8'22 

©C1AG90390 



1 






Affectionately dedicated 
to the memory of my dear mother, 

MARY ELIZABETH ASHER-GIBSON, 

who implanted, and nourished 
within me, a desire to learn. 



PREFACE 



This is my first attempt at publication. 

No one has seen or heard any of the matter herein con- 
tained, except three poems which have been published, or 
circulated privately, so I must take full responsibility. 

I am conscious of many defects in the work. If what has 
been written brings as much pleasure to those who read it, 
as it has brought to me in the preparation of it, I shall 
have my reward. 

Part of the work was done amid the pines at, and near. 
Flagstaff, and the remainder in southern Arizona, whence 
the title. 

I am indebted to Mrs. Ella H. Estill of Tucson, Arizona, 
for the attractive cover design. She has faithfully repre- 
sented the emblems chosen for the title. 

OsTORius Gibson. 

Tombstone, Arizona, 
May 23, 1922. 



A CITY AMONG THE PINES 

You are, nestling in your couch so high, 
First favorite of the hosts of sky. 
As an infant in her mother's eye. 

Amid your scenes so fair and wild. 
Was I nurtured when a little child, 
And my soul to poesy was beguiled. 

Whether tempests rave, or zephyrs laugh. 
Your patriot soul soars above the raff. 
And sets up Old Glory's proud Flagstaff. 

Winter's snows cover your fair face. 
Softening all lines to a tender grace, 
As does a woman's charms, her silks and lace. 

The resinous airs from your pines give health. 

Your ranges and forests abundant wealth. 

High resolves from high plains creep in by stealth. 



SYMPATHY 

I read a tale of love 

So sweet, so heavenly. 

Every tender heart string seemed to move 

In joyful sympathy. 

Then came the tear-dimmed parting 
By cruelty of men. 
Every chord of being hurting 
By such a sight of pain. 

It is the very life of hearts which know 
The power of love, 

To share another's joy, and in another's woe 
Help to give. 



(7) 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



MULTUM IN PARVO 

A star shines as brightly in a tiny pool, 
As it does in heaven's azure dome; 
So God dwells as truly in a humble soul 
As he does in his fair, celestial home. 



OBSERVED 

The field grass, with its drooping blades, 

On sands traces geometric lines. 

The busy wasp bores his funnel in the dust. 

Common weeds are a pigmy forest. 

A rose bush hangs over my path 

As though it wished to greet me. 

Prairie dogs set sentinels to watch me. 

A level field runs up to the mountain base. 

I see a cleft in the forest trees. 

As though for a long way 

They are ranged along an aisle. 

Narrow, and sloping away 

At a gentle angle, which, looking through 

To the mountains, much resembles 

A narrow gorge, or canon pass. 

The mountains are surrounded 

By a deep, soft, pink mist. 

Which makes them appear to be 

Faintly illumined from an inner light. 

A soft sheen, like liquid light. 

Goes racing o'er the waving grass. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



THE CORN SHIP 

[During a famine in India the farmers of America gave a ship load 
of com to feed the hungry. The following lines were written on the 
sailing of the ship, and appeared in the California Christian Advocate. 
They are apropos to the present, for American farmers are asked to 
give 5,000,000 bushels of wheat to help Armenia.] 

Sail on ! O white-winged bird ! 

My ardent thought would transform thee 

To a beautiful gold-winged seraph 

Bearing the life of thy heart throb 

For others* nourishing, were it not 

More blessed to remember 

That thou are steel ; 

Obeying but the will of men, 

Bearing but the gifts of men. 

To feed the wasted bodies 

Of the millions of their brothers. 

On, on, we ever speed 

On wings of thought 

In quest of God; 

But thus are we ever taught of Him, 

That in the earth we walk on, 

The men, the things we see, 

And feel, and give, doth He abide. 

And not more in remote elysium. 

Blest Triumph ! 

Yet thou art more than triumph. 

Thine achievement is a-past 

The little range of our philosophy. 

We stand in happy humbleness, 

And bow with more than reverence 

Of common thought, as thou dost pass, 

As we mutely stand abashed 

Before God's mighty works in nature. 



10 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Blest deed! 

Yet thou art more than deed. 

A sublime exaggeration 

Of our common doing 

Doth cling about thee. 

Yet thou hadst thy beginning 

In the thought of humble man; 

And thy doing was as great 

As other victories of earth. 

Blest mission! 

Yet thine is more than mission. 

Thy hold is bursting with the fruitage; 

For love no longer bound is 

By the tide marks of the nations, 

But has passed all coasts. 

Thou art floating on its water; 

And we hear no strained, uncertain song 

Borne to our ears by imagery ; 

But as the deep, rich tones of ocean's tides 

Are set to cadence by the winds 

In a mighty rhapsody. 

So the song of humanity, 

God inspired, envelopes us 

With its symphony. 

And, as the press upon the lips 

Of the warm kiss of affection 

Assures that a loved one 

Whose absence we have grieved, 

Is with us in that nearness 

Which is more than all the mind creates. 

So in thee, our and our brothers* hearts 

Are met, touch to touch. 

In the warmth of a living love. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 11 



ERRANTRY 

Like an errant bird 
My heart has flown, 
Far through the world 
Hath its flight gone. 

Lured by its sunshine, 
And rich fruited lands, 
Lost in its wideness, 
Blown by its winds. 



INNOCENCE 

I saw them at their happy play 
Upon the warm and shining sands ; 
With bared feet and busy hands, 
Abuilding cities all the day, 

A rosy girl, and chubby boy. 

Their simple dress was worn so sparse 

(A child's delight in summer) that scarce 

Denied me was the sensuous joy 

Of viewing the graces of their forms; 

But if an evil thought upwellod, 

Within my heait, with shamp 'twas quelled 

By prayer — a thought that never harms. 

So innocent of guile were they. 
Sweet types to me they seemed 
Of fair creation's morn. I dreamed 
A world as free of taint as they. 

Why may not be such purity 
(Men but flaunt with evil thought. 
And with an evil will are sought. 
The carnal lusts,) since Christ is surety? 



12 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



A MAGDALEN 

Her heart seemed ever warmer, 
Her charity ever wider, 
Her hand seemed ever kinder 
In oft bestowing. For 
No state or experience exists 
That doth not teach its own 
Peculiar lesson. 

Chide her not that she doth often think 

With tears, of those, her fellows 

In her sin ; that they do seem so dear 

To her e'en now; for there is 

A twining silken cord which binds 

Our human hearts together. 

Near and fatal ; and if one be 

Raised above the state of others, 

'Tis but draped in graceful lines 

To others still below; and its fiber 

Tighter drawn, more vibrant is 

To the tender touch of sympathy. 

And intimacy hath a tender charm. 

Forever holding those to be 

Much nearer in all life's changes 

Who have enjoyed its privilege; 

And she hath found in them 

Love, sympathy, tenderness and beauty, 

And shall she not in memory be bound? 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 13 



TEASING 

They walk together. He is thoughtful, 

abstracted. 
She is smiling and mirthful, and 

presently sings: 
"Down in the barley com 
Are the reapers grown o'er; 
And a drowsy air is worn 
By bird and tree, and flower and fern. 
Thy love is drowsy, too, my dear." 



THREE SEASONS 



They walk along the meadow path, 
'Mid sweetest, blowing airs of spring, 
A joyous poet close his sweetheart hath. 
And this the burden which they sing: 
"Life is waking, love is waking," 
(Blithe and sweet their happy song.) 
"The rosy light of bliss is breaking, 
Dull winged care its flight is taking, 
And our hearts sing 'tis flown for long." 

II. 

In harvest's happy fields is he. 

With sturdy strength, abinding up the sheaves. 

In a cosy, children blessed home is she. 

And in her heart a song its happy cadence weaves: 

"The field has ripened, ripened is love. 

Our bliss is a measure heaped full and to spare, 



14 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



With comforts to bless us, with children to love. 
A life in maturity. The pleasures we have, 
Are sweeten'd by return of flight wearied care." 

III. 

They sit by the grate as winter howls wild. 

No task have they now with its precious soul freight, 

No burden to weight them, no care, and no child. 

By song and by praise the hours are beguiled: 

"The barns are filled, our love is full. 

And stored against want are the bins. 

Yea, stored is our harvest in yon golden hill 

Where manna of heaven our hunger shall still. 

Our life soon is ended. Our life soon begins." 



CONTROL 

The tempter said: 

"Thy powers are dead; 

Nor shall awake 

To joy or ache; 

Nor answer still 

To warmth or chill.'* 

But wisdom read 

His plan, and said: 

" 'Tig false, I trow; 

For we can know 

By a higher power, 

Whence, as from battled tower 

Men may look down 

On a sleeping town. 

And know there live 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 15 



The men who give 

It being, and form, 

Who will wake at morn; 

Or like the pure and brave 

Who, beyond the grave. 

And its treacherous dark, 

Can see embark 

The thing of life, 

No more the wife 

Of dullard flesh,—- 

A treach'rous mesh." 

But by such guile 

He sought the while, 

To tempt me on 

His will to own; 

To stir my sense 

In ignorance, 

As foeman rise 

With swift surprise 

From hiding, then 

One's strength o'erween, 

And sink his soul 

In corruption foul. 
But since do live 
The powers which give 
Me being, and form, 
I seek that art 
Which rules the heart, 
That I may rest 
When e'er 'tis best, 
Or cause to flow 
With richest glow. 
My every power, 
In a chosen hour. 



16 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



GRACE 

[Respectfully dedicated to the memory of Charles Nelson Orittenton, 
founder of the Crittenton Homes.] 

Did you seek the place of worship on the holy Sabbath 

morn 
In the lovely town of F — , where my story sad was 

born, 
Some kindly hand would point you to a quaint but charm- 
ing pile, 
Standing 'midst the clustered houses, which reposed like 

pleasing smile 
Upon a countenance of beauty, or of our mother earth, 
Clinging round it like her children, round a mother, in 

their mirth. 
For so the house of God doth nourish, like a mother at her 

breast. 
All of good to any people, most of happiness and rest. 
Its form and all the graving were of beauty high and 

rare; 
Not pretentious, nor antique, but simple, like a strong and 

moving prayer. 
It was a gift a loving people lovingly had made 
To God; and like a child of love the parent features were 

portrayed, 
Speaking most of simple wisdom and devotion of the heart, 
As is found in most profusion far from crowded street and 

mart. 
Did you enter in, a gracious air surrounded you, and made 

you feel at ease. 
The courtesy of hearts of love, and fellowship, gently 

strove to please 
In their Master's name the stranger in the midst, and send 

him forth 
Happier and holier, by breathing air of heaven 'mid the 

baser air of earth. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 17 



The worship was most helpful, like manna fall'n from God; 
Made strong the fainting soul, so with preparation shod 
Each listener prepared might be for coming weekly toil. 
The pastor spoke old wisdom, good seed in kindly soil, 
Which bore fruit like that which clothes the earth with 

beauty, food and life. 
It was not so much his wisdom filled our souls with glory 

rife, 
As that all had come to worship, and the Master met us 

there. 
Worship is like mountain climbing, and thought, and song, 

and prayer, 
(The trusted things of soul), the guides which go before 

and fix 
Stay ropes fast, and cut in the cliffs safe niches 
Where our feet securely rest, that we may upward mount. 
I pity unbelieving souls, traveling like paths, who count 
Not the worth of these; but fall, are bruised, and may not 

pass 
To greatest heights; but them inaccessible must class. 

In the choir there stood a fair, chaste, young girl, 

Or woman. E'en the tints of passion, like the tints of 

pearl, 
Did but set out her purity. Beside stronger forms of men 
She stood the sweet, ideal of women, men love and win, 
(Too often to destroy by cruelty begot of baseness not akin 
To their finer souls.) Rapturous had been 
Her child and maiden years. Life was If^^e. Nor seen 
Had she, much of wrong or sorrow. Her soul a gallery was 
Set round with images of beauty grouped in fairest pose. 
Her eyes were large, and lustrous, soft shimmering lakes 
Of chocolate, whose opal tints glowed and waned, as sleeps 

and wakes 
The ember. They spoke to you of confidence, seemed to 

give 



18 . PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Her soul to you as though only hers in trust, as her hand 
alms did give. 

Life was a dream. It awakened voiceless sympathies, un- 
defined emotions. 
As are inspired by forms and tints in clouds 'mid trans- 
forming motions. 
It was happiness, love and melody. She could but speak 
Her thought in sweet, unbroken flow of music. Each week 
Her song echoed in the heart, and cheered the way 
Of burdened toilers. She looked for happiness as for re- 
turning day. 
She loved a woman's place, and all her heart 
Yearned forward to sweetest joy, most sacred state, a 
wife's part. 

In the self same town a man there was 

Tall, young, handsome, who wooed, won her love ; and those 

Who knew them both spake kindly of them. 

And consented he was happiest of men. 

He won her heart, and asked her hand, and both she 

sweetly gave. 
Then troth was sealed, as troth should be, by sacred kiss 

of love. 
He asked consent of father, mother. Both loved their child, 
The best of both their souls in unity. By query mild. 
And loving, both sought her happiness. They talked, 

prayed, wept. 
And talked all o'er again till late before they slept. 
Then sadly gave consent. But father doubted, mother 

feared. 
It had not seemed to father's eyes (within his heart) John 

cared 
As much for things of God, or was as kind as he should be ; 
And mother knew not why, but kept not back the tears 

when he 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 19 



Was thought of as the husband of her child. But still 
They hoped and prayed for best, and blessed them with 

good will 
And sped them on to all the bliss they prayed for them. 
Grace was only happy, only loved him 
With all her heart, which never knew mistrust. 
And deemed she received as she had given, faith the truest. 
With auspices all fair their wedding day drew on. 
And passed. Scarcely were words of gratulation said, till 

they were gone 
To distant city to make the sweet beginning their parents 

made, 
Each pair must make, so like a birth of being. Nor had 

stayed 
In their new home long, and scarce tasted of its bliss, 
When he became unkind, and of her beauty jealous. 

Unkindness fell as a stinging blow upon her tender nature, 

and 
Frantic, dazed, thinking the fault her own, plann'd 
Tremblingly to cure it. Her much concern did seem 
To make her foolish, and overdo. He did deem 
Her much concern but childish weakness, and farther grew 
From her; and when she came with pleading looks, dew 
Of sorrow, disheartenment, moist upon her lashes, to ask 
His kiss, he would coldly spurn her, nor mask 
His cruel thoughts, which plainly spoke suspicion. Fell 
Many months dragged on; but the listener be spared the ill 
We fain had spared to her. There came a babe, sweet faced, 
Fair as her mother. She forgot her sorrow for a while, and 

placed 
The child in the father's arms, losing self, and said 
"I can be happy if he kindly treats my child." She laid 
Her on her bosom, and it seemed she had been born out 

there. 



20 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



For her pain was gone a while through happiness; but 

care, 
Like a cruel rival, returned to crush the heart he might not 

claim. 
The man would seem to love the child, and Grace's love for 

him 
Awoke, as a suf f 'rer wakes from a happy dream, to pain. 
His cruel way he held until, at last to gain 
Surcease, they thought to part. She consented, for she 

knew 
Nought else to do; knew not why she should do that; but 

grew 
To think that it was best if he desired it. All seemed 
Dark to her. She questioned if her innocence and love, 

deemed 
So divine, were more than error and stupidity. Was then 
The beauty love had seen in him mere glamour? Were all 

men 
Heartless, cold, unjust as he? These, her questions, were 
Unanswered, as were many things she asked of life. For 

her 
But two things seemed to live: Her love for her babe, and 

pain 
Of her love for him. A purpose dumb, chaotic filled her: 

To gain 
A living for herself and child, and in a strange land 
Seek to be forgotten. She would go farther west, and find 
Her desire amid its busy enterprises. He wished to know 
The way she traveled, with seeming good intent to show 
Her any kindness that he could. Without thought of dark 

design 
She told him, and made ready for her journey. On the 

train 
He traveled with her. Many hours passed and she 
Was faint from hunger and fatigue. He came to see 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 21 



If he, in any way, could be of service to her, and said 
"You must be hungry, should get your dinner," and plead 
That he might keep the child and luggage meanwhile. She 

yielded 
To his kindness, as she thought, thanked him that he >• 

shielded 
Her child and stuff, and went out. Scarce had she gone 
When her husband conveyed away the baby on a wagon 
He had waiting. He took the little money she had brought. 
When she returned the train was moving. She thought 
As they were not there, they had only gone a moment. Then 
A lady asked her if she sought the man and child. And 

when 
She answered such the truth was, the lady told her straight 
She saw them leave, and join one who seemed to wait. 
She heard no more. Confusion filled her mind. 
"Have I a child? a husband?" Then stared vacantly, could 

find 
No speech, only hysteric laugh. "No, it is all a joke — 

nothing is real 
I am speeding into space — all is delusion — I cannot feel." 

She wakened to half consciousness when 
Her terminus was reached, and then 
Something of the truth seemed dawning. She told 
The conductor, but he gravely shook his head, laid hold 
Of her remaining baggage, helped her down, and hurried on. 
With the forced air of one who would escape a bore. Down 
The streets she went, seeing no familiar face, 
Knowing not her way, alone, penniless, and no place 
To go. One thought clung to her fevered brain, like a ghost: 
She must find her babe. She told of her lost 
Child, perhaps not wisely, to any who would hear. 
Some believed her not. Others touched were by the sob, 
the tear 



22 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



With which she interspersed her tale; but said they had 

not time, 
Or turned away to more pleasant thoughts. Crime 
Though it was, some turned away and laughed. On 
She wandered, rending wide her heart as one 
Afflicted in the Orient rends his garments. It was 
As if she forgot God, nor asked his help, so much does 
Love, unstrengthened by reason's sterner thought 
But simply trust. Safe with God, it is blind, when sore 

fraught 
With trouble, in a world of sinning men, who do 
Despite God's purpose, and sorely wound his own. Flew 
On her tireless feet until she found a man, who. 
Would help her trace her husband, and get her baby too. 
If that were possible. Thank God if you possess a heart 
That can listen to the simplest tale of sorrow. A part 
It is, of our humanity, to help ; and help 
May, in an important sense, come from no other source. 

Help 
He gave her, and they found the husband. But he said 
She could not have the child, heaped abuse on her bowed 

head; 
Called her worthless, faithless, unworthy of her child ; 
And sent her heart away as empty as her arms. Mild 
Words are, to picture her bereavement. She was 
Completely broken, wandered out; and her senses now re- 
turned as 
Though fell spirits kept her hoodwinked till they led her 
To a hell of sorest torment, then took the blind away. 

Where 
Could she go? Friendless, penniless, she had not courage, 

or desire 
To preserve her life. When night came, the cheering fire 
Kindled on many a hearth ; but neither heart nor hearth 
Glowed warm for her. Night's mantle enwrapped the earth 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 23 



Like Perseus' magic cloak, and hid her from all gaze. 

And she was glad. In a park with the blaze 

Of distant city lights unpenetrated, sick, worn out, 

By all her toil, sorrow, misery and doubt, 

Seeking a place of rest, she crept beneath a bench, 

For concealment. She awoke at morn, did wrench 

Her limbs to break their stiffness, crept forth, fearing lest 

Some officer, pursuing duty, might see her, and arrest 

Her for a vagrant. Two nights she spent thus. Then pangs 

Of hunger did somewhat blunt the pitiless fangs 

Of the writhing serpent which was stinging deep 

Her heart. With strength and courage somewhat which 

doth leap 
Up in the beast of prey when he sights his quarry, she 
Issued forth to ask some fellow man that he 
Would give food; or if some sister would a morsel give, 
And not be poorer by it. It doth grieve 
The heart at the answers: "Be gone you sloven thing." 
"Go and seek some work to do." "Nothing for you." The 

ring 
Of cruel, low suspicion spoke in every voice. 
And reached her heart. What had she done? No choice, 
No power had she to stay her fate. She turned away. 
A new sorrow consumed her hunger. Through the day 
She wandered. None spoke kindly, inquired, nor gave 
Her food. At last a man passed where she walked. 
He was alone, handsome, well dressed. He saw none talked 
To her. Seeing well her face she mostly strove 
To hide, he saw her beauty weeping but enheightened. Love 
With sweet, soft lines had touched her countenance, with 

brush 
In strokes dainty and rich, yet delicate, transfused in blush 
Of tender'st colors. Marking her symmetry, in his eyes 
There played a half awful, half enchanting light of passion. 



24 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Cries 
There an infant in the world, or man or beast, and does 
Not the mother hear it, and answer to its woes? 
But our religion, which all confess should glow 
With warmth of human love divine, doth grow 
Too cold and formal. As the stranger marked her 
And coming closer, she, with an instinct of her nature 
Looked into his eyes, so as to bear to his inmost heart 
The tender waves of a soul's appeal, like string of harp 
Vibrant loud within. Fled evil motive as much as may be 
From a heart where God doth not abide ; and straight he 
Went to her, the warmth of kindly impulse welling 
Up in all his being; and as such souls may feel, feeling 
For her. She simply said she needed food and rest. 
He gave her means to purchase these, and quickly passed 
His way, his breast now filled with wild, romantic fancies. 

The thought 
Of her possessed him; for so it is with passionate souls 

untaught 
In constancy, and high control, that currents of the soul 
Set with hot vehemence toward each new attraction, with 

whole 
Power, whole desire, like breakers of the sea 
Which race before each changing wind. She 
Took his gift, scarce understanding, nor with enough 
Of native gratefulness awake to thank him ! 'Twas enough 
To him that she accepted it. Her mind was numb. 
And she moved by mechanic impulses, dumb 
To her reason — impelled by carnal powers. Now we 
Pass her story over until we see 
Her when she may guide the course, 
Add a link, to our chain of discourse. 

In her benefactor's heart, with speeding headway, did gain 
love, we call it. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 25 



Which glowed with fervent ardor. Love or passion was it^ 
If passion only it was as pure as much of what in earth 
Bears name of love. 'Twas not such love as finds a joy, 

not dearth, 
In sacrifice; but a kind impatient of restraint. 
Finding its goal in sensuous accomplishment; holding with 

faint 
Desire, eternal values by the side of carnal. But O 
Warm was it. It tuned his voice with richer tones to 
Plead his cause; and set his pulses throbbing in such 

fashion 
There flowed thereout a strange, magnetic power to re- 
sponsive passion. 
Her heart was changed. She looked on him with vassal eyes. 
Would gladly kiss the hand that fed her. To rise 
There seemed an admiration, ere now unknown to her. 
Sense was alive, and things of sense seemed only real. More 
Did seem to grow this bias, until she fell. They fell. 
Both weak, both erring, both sinning. To tell 
The story further is not proper to pure minds. 
But in any fall, charity its privilege finds. 

She had sinned. Now the truth came flooding in. 

Passion, sense, desire by pyrotechnic glow, obscure or dim 

The greater light of reason and of right, until 

Passion spent, the fires died out, light flowing in doth fill 

The soul with a painful brightness, like glaring light 

Thrown suddenly upon eyes accustomed to the night. 

Her heart awoke. Those pure and tender instincts 

Of womanhood revived ; but sin had led her to the precincts 

Of the fallen ; and native sense of honor made her feel her 

place. 
She said "I am one of them." "Nor shall any know my face 
'Mid the circles of the pure." She thought of her child. 
what had she done? It seemed to her fancies wild 



26 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



As though disaster awaited her on every side; 

That consequences loomed and multiplied, as they did hide 

Themselves, their warning, till she fell, then rose up 

To gloat, and torture her. She felt her cup 

Of sorrow to brim was filled. Should she see her child 

again? 
All through her night of woe, ere this, spite of pain 
Hope had lived; and though unknown, like a loving friend 
In time of sad bereavement, did strive to mend 
Many broken heart strings. Now that, too, was gone. 
She felt severed there had been a stay which fixed her soul 

on 
God, and she was sinking, sinking. Distracted with terror 

she 
Overwrought her nerves, and slept at last exhausted. The 
Warmth of the genial sun awakened her 
To sense of earth life, of substance. Her 
Room was pleasant, with comforts her spirits sore beguiled. 
She felt helpless, longed for any sympathy of man or child 
Which heart hungering appeased. Her benefactor came 
And a woman of his kind. Their hearts felt for her. No 

blame 
They thrust her with, but wept with her, and more rebelled 
Against the rigid code which ever distant held 
Them from society, as they did interpret it, and see 
It most interpreted. Then to share their fellowship was 

she 
Constrained, and not to spend her life in quest of what did 

torture only. 
And deprive of all the sweetest things of life. Lonely 
Past all bearing, she went with them. With divided vision 

they 
Persuaded were that they were right; that the play 
Of humanity was paramount to the truth of God. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 27 



She went among them, lived their life-dizzy, many colored. 

Had 
She love of music? Here she found congenial sympathy; 

for sense doth seem 
The warmth, energy and melody of music to control. I 

ween 
That among the fallen, where passion, sense, the liquid life 
Most flows, is heard the warmest, sweetest music, rife 
With all that stirs and compels, as though it breathed the 

power 
Of fabled, sister Sirens, who woed but to death. The happy 

hour 
Would she beguile, she found these men and women too 
Of most congenial kind, held by no vexatious rule, who 
Squandered freely gold and spirit. All 
Was sacrificed to pleasure. Still to each would come the 

call 
At times, of conscience, a tender pleading and 
Chiding of the love of God ; but sweets of sense, warm em- 
brace, press of hand 
Ruled there, more than those, and so she drifted 
Swiftly on. Sometime thought of mother, father lifted 
Off the heart its veil. These were put away with tears 
And bitten lips, resolving they should never know. Fears 
Oft seized her soul, vague as frights in childhood. 
What strange mingling of highest honor, basest shame, 

that would 
Make our fallen natures hug its shame, and die to save a 

loved one 
The disgrace of knowing, when their hearts would run 
Their deepest currents in the soil to help us. A while 
'Mid her absorbing grief she had forgotten father, mo- 
ther.' Now guile 
Would argue that she should only love and shield them 



28 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



From the shame her life had brought them. They heard 

when 
She left her home, but never since, so to each other said 
Sadly, "It must be our beloved child is dead." 
She let them nurse this lesser grief. A wisdom grew 
Of men, a self command, a mind to judge right from 

wrong. Drew 
On time when she half happy was, half miserable. First 
Favorite, she was. Her heart half justified her, for love 

like thirst 
Of drunkard, led her on. It seemed but half sin. And yet 
Her better part ne'er sanctioned, nor allowed her to forget. 
A part she played, and those whom she embraced — 
'Twas part in pity, part in love, part in desperation. 

Braced 
Her soul seemed Against right for a while. Then truth, 

purity 
Learned in childhood at mother's knee, like surety 
Against her loss, came creeping in; as in after years 
Smiles from childhood, its hopes and tears, 
The incense breathed, the bird song heard and stored 
Within the soul, are brought forth from the hoard, 
Like honey from the cliffs, to sweeten all our lives. 
Her heart returned to God (as a halting sufferer strives 
To walk) by faith, and awakened reason. She sought 

kindly, 
Diligently, some way of escape. Became more kind, not 

blindly, 
But awakening to their mutual error. She shared her 

purse 
With needy ones. Talked with her sisters, and the curse 
Of sin weighed upon them as on herself. Oft found 
Another's story sad as her own. Learned they were bound 
To their wayward life, but gladly would leave it. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 29 



How should they? The world gave them a place. Escape 

it 
They could not. True, many men who came 
Among them, returned to homes of purity. To them 
Were opened wide the doors of social life; but these 
Were kept without the walls as lepers. Ways 
Were stoutly closed against them. They must within their 

place, 
Till disease consumed them, or death had cured all their 

disgrace. 

****** 

A father called of God to be a pastor, oft was told 

To go out in the world, where flocks were scattered, and 

in fold 
To gather straying ones. He heeded not 
God's call, thinking he was weak for such a work. He 

thought 
He could better serve a parish. He a daughter had, 
A sweet faced, angel child. (God took her for he said 
"E'en now she is worthy.") The father crushed was. 
And pondered much why his child had died. "Has 
God taken her that I may fuller see his way?" 
He bore his loss in meekness, and his heart more tender 

grew. Day 
By day thought, until his father heart bereft took in 
As his, the children of the world. To begin 
He had large means, which he would use for God and good. 
Through the land he went bearing help. None would 
Ask his help, allow it, and go away uncomforted. He 
Felt a special mission to outcast women. "She," 
He thought, "Up there, is more than life to me. Are 

these loved less?" 
So he builded homes, and strove to cure their shame. 

Stress 
Of cruel criticism was great, but he braved it. His reward 



30 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



No man can count. God reserves that labor. But accord 
To him praise, full measure, in emotion and in word. 

* * * * * * 

This good man came to the city where Grace was. 

As fallen women to the Saviour came, thus 

Came she and others. They were taken to a "Home." 

A home it was, a refuge, where they had a welcome. Some 

Employment was given them. The routine of the home 

they did, 
And felt the sweet power of christian sympathy, which fed 
The heart with sweet morsels, and left no bitterness; 

which 
Gave more than human sympathy could give, and left them 

rich. 
For they paid not the price of virtue for it. It asks no 

price 
But what enriches more in paying — to live purely. Entice 
Them not again. With constant love, and patient care 
The matrons sought their good; and by counsel and by 

prayer 
To restore these wayward daughters to hearts that ached 

for them. 
With a courage born of noble purpose, most resisted firm 
All efforts to discover their identity. Oft with rarest tact 
Some word, some name, some incident was seized which 

tracked 
Their course. Grace asked the matron that she might 
Wash the supper dishes all alone. Night 
Was drawing on, all was hushed. E'en the busy birds 
Employed to furnish music, rested with the plowman. 

Herds 
Sated with the fragrant grass, chewed the cud. 
As in the kitchen Grace was busied, each task would 
Stir some memory. The quiet of the evening hour, 
The fragrant breeze seemed very memories. Their power 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 31 



Awoke a flood of feeling, filled her heart, and song 
Could only speak the language of the soul; and among 
The hush and incense of the evening uprose the offering 

of her heart: 

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me 
Let me hide myself in Thee." 

Apart 
From the kitchen door the matron listened, enwrapped, 

held bound; 
For never had she heard deep mysteries of life so speak 

in sound. 
Straightway then the matron told the good man 
We have spoken of, about the music she had heard. Then 
Was impressed the man with Grace's gentility, said that 

he 
Would have her sing for him, hoping it might be 
He could learn her story. So later he asked the pleasure 
That he might hear her sing the selfsame song. The 

measure 
Of her gratitude to him spoke in eyes and countenance; 

but she 
Simply said: "O I cannot. It would kill me." 
He kindly spoke his disappointment. Many days 
Went by. Perchance her heart is gaining. Perchance 

strays 
Again to her father's house the memory of a prodigal. 

She longed 
To have her story known, or could no more conceal it. 

Thronged 
The thoughts of home until she spoke them out unthought. 
She spoke a name which by a listening ear was caught, 
And she confessed he was her brother. Straightway there 

went 
Two letters penned in sweet, endearing words, sent 
One to father, one to brother. Hard was it to trace them 

out, 



32 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



For there were many of that name. Soon the letters bro*t 
Glad answers. The brother wrote "Buy what she needs 
And send her here to me." The father wrote such words 

as feeds 
Sorest hungering, too sacred for a stranger^s eye. 
Her hardest burden was to bear their forgiving love. "Let 

me die 
Now, and no more see them till we meet where I am pure." 
She wrote "I am unworthy. You would not know me now. 

To cure 
The scars of sin e'en Jesus' love does not suffice. I can- 
not." 
Father answered "Past eighty am I my child, and should 

not 
You consent to come, then I will come to you. 
I am feeble, too, and may not bear the journey's toil; but 

do 
You still refuse, yet I will come." She read his words 
And no spirit was left within her to deny him. Chords 
Of pride were severed, and she went. Many miles 
Before she reached home, an aged man came down the 

aisles 
Of the speeding train in search of his darling child. 
He tottered, half from motion of the train, half from palsy 

mild 
Which comes with age, a sign earth its hold is losing. 
And heaven's winds are swaying him, waiting God's choos- 
ing 
To waft him home. He passed where his daughter sat 
And looked at her, and she at him. Timidity held her 

back. At 
Last a word escaped her heart and struggled to her lips, 
Like a captive, freed, rushing forth to meet a loved one. 

Sips 
A god of classic time a nectar half so sweet, as holds 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 33 



That dear word "Father?" Hearing it he clasped her, as 

folds 
God to his heart a sinner, enwrapping him from al/ 
His guilt. And thus they sat a long time silently, in thrall 
Too sweet, too sacred and too heavenly 
For utterance in words. Forgetting love walked so ewer.ij 
Above all common differences of life, that all 
Of past, of ill, was now forgotten. And the old parental 

hall 
Seemed to speak a welcome. We will not look on 
As mother and daughter meet. Leave them there alone, 
To those deep, sweet feelings women feel, and only feel, 
Not speak. Mother was now blind. See her child steal 
Humbly to her, to ask her mercy. She was spared that, 
Feeling warm arms about her neck, the pat 
Upon her cheek, soft kisses on her lips. The daughter said 
Afterward, "God closed her dear eyes that her aged head 
Be not brought down with sorrow to the grave by seeing 

deep 
On her loved child's face imprint of sin." As in sleep 
She always saw the innocent child, yet felt 
The kiss of a woman redeemed. Sharing their joy, melt 
Our hearts with theirs. She lived with them so sweetly, 

and 
Helpfully, their hasting years brought nothing to remand 
Their memories to past years, sealed within their hearts, 

save 
Of happy things. So sweet was she, and good that love 
Would almost disbelieve her shadowed past. Was her 

story known. 
And did men of evil purpose seek to tempt her on 
The credit of her past? Her manner a confession was, 
A trust, a prayer for pity from them ; much as 
She was in their power, but asked their mercy 



34 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



That she be spared for virtue's sake, if not her own. Circe 
Like, she was the sum of womanhood, and kept it pure. 

As time sped on she took her place again in sacred choir. 
Her voice was thronged with deeper meaning than before* 
This song she sings as her prayer ever more: 
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me. 
Let me hide myself in Thee." 



FANCY 

The moon rose up. 

And halved, was lying on the horizon, 

Like a distant signal fire, 

'Round which there walked, or stood, 

Outlined in its mellow glow. 

Strange men, of other thoughts. 

Who seemed advanced in being 

To a middle place. 

Between the plane of mortals 

And that other one 

Where weights of flesh are gone; 

And handled bundles. 

Or passed 'cross spaces still unmeasured, 

Whither they would betake their journey; 

And winds of other worlds blew on them. 

Chill and biting. 

As they busied with their preparation. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 35 



TO HOPE 

Oh Hope. Thou blessed, sweet enchantress! 

O chaste and gentle presence! 

Hast thou thy wand from the hand of God? 

What sounds are thine? 

That, 'midst the strangest, sorest discords, 

The heart of man may hear 

The sweetest music? 

And when the cold, amorphous gloom of doubt 

To all sense adverse, enfolds our being, 

Thou kindlest even it 

To a rosy, mellow light, 

Through which the soul looks up 

In wide eyed wonderment. 

As if waking in a strange place. 

And when death shall grasp us, 

And stifle all our struggles, 

As one who casts a net 

And then bestirs with diligence, 

That the catch cannot escape. 

Thou wilt touch the secret springs. 

And up we'll see ascending 

A life of far more grace and beauty. 

Than we imagined in this life that is. 



36 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



SOLICITUDE 

Can I love again? O, Can I love again? 
My inmost soul I ask of thee 
The burden of this strain. 

Bees, with rarest nectars fed, 

Full have stored the rough oak's heart 

Against the winter's need. 

So the flower months of life, 

Have stored my heart with memories 

Tender, sweet and rife; 

And could I fill it greater 

With love, sweet child for thee? 

I would not say so. Later 

Free space there may not be; 
And rather would I die 
Than bring a pain to thee. 



REASON AND REVELATION 

Man has reason. Let his morrows, 
His full years be guided thereby. 

By it proving 

And defining 
Every step. Its stern fiat 

Now removing, 

Now confirming 
Duty's course. The way resolving, 

Rightly mapping 
From familiar headlands. Error's stay dissolving; 

And unwrapping, 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 37 



Every cord of destiny; deftly threading, 

And so winding 
The labyrinth of life; the being leading, 

Its high end finding. 

Could not the heart find happiness in doing, 

And enjoying 
The things it craved by nature? Ever sowing, 

And employing 
All its powers for self, in harvesting 

And gathering; 
From nature's store its dower wresting, 

All temptations weathering? 

No voice was heard pleading, 

Or declaring. 
But sweetest tones stirred, leading 

And bearing 
The music of thought. 
The heart in musing 

And reverie 
Lost, by subtle art confusing 

Its every 
Instinct, had been weaving 

And entwining 
A tangled skein of pride ; had been striving 

And complaining 
Within itself. But by reason's own perceiving. 

And revealing. 
Reason is a growth; and in receiving 

And unsealing 
Treasure not its own, it has a being. 

When, hearing 
Sweet strains of soft music playing, 

And pouring 
Its song like waters overflowing, 



38 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



And filling 
The soul, bliss seemed absolute; or viewing 

The falling 
Of eventide shades, the hidden sun gilding 

And streaming 
A rich, mellow glory o'er clouds folding, 

And gleaming 
(A scene indescribable) now glowing 

And fading, 
The splendor seemed growing 

And shedding 
Within me its glory, so sweetly seemed living 

And moving 
The presence of beauty. So came truth descending, 

Alighting, 
Like the gush of that music, attending. 

Delighting, 
My soul's every fiber, and hushing. 

Yea, stilling 
Irreverent thought. It alighted so gently, 

And sweetly. 
No daintiest chord was jarred, I listened intently, 

And meekly. 
A moment it paused ere speaking. 

Then trembling, 
And with rev'rent confusion now waking. 

Dissembling 
Reason, this question rose struggling. 

Desiring 
An answer: "Art thou truth, or love, or 
life?" Staggering, 

Yet cheering 
My soul. Then spake a voice, not breaking, 

Dividing, 
Its flow into syllables, but waking 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 39 



From hiding 
By exquisite emotions, sweet voices to slumbering, 

Retiring, 
Compelled by reason's gross power; but now 

numbering, 

Choiring 
A composite harmony sublime; not revealing 

And telling 
In worrying parts, its message, concealing 

And failing 
As reason must; but permitting 

And teaching 
My being to know, by gift befitting. 

And reaching 
To knowledge divine, the while changing 

Yet holding 
Its message in unity: "For hearing 

Thine inquiring, 
I came in haste, sore fearing 

Thy desiring 
Would lead thee astray." 



A RIDDLE 

A maiden sweet, as yet half child. 

To her lover came one day. 

He clasped her in a rapture wild. 

While she to him these words did say: 

"When we are wed I will come every day 
And ask you to hold me a while; 
For my heart would inquire as we speed on our way, 
If your love is true 'mid joy and trial." 

Soft eyed was she, and golden haired. 
Her form wore a sweet and tender grace; 



40 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



And eyes, and lips, and form required 
To the query, an answer, she bore on her face: 
"Just to know that you love me still. 

And cherish me fonder each day. 

My heart will not hunger if only you will ; 

And each fond embrace my love will repay." 

Sweet maid have you not life's riddle unwound? 

If love would be stronger, and faithful each day, 

No coldness would mar, no forgetfulness wound; 

And happiness sweet would perennially stay. 
If we will but love, and cherish each day. 
No time will be found, no room for distrust; 
But as sunshine fills up the bright urn of the day, 
So the heart will be full of contentment and trust. 



CONFIDENCE 
I. 

Still let hope live, for love can wait. 

Nor deem thou'rt bound by chains of fate 

That cold, relentless hold thee 

From all the heart cherisheth, 

The soul desires; 

For a Heart of Love enfolds thee, 

A Mind of Love directs thee. 

And Hands of Love make smooth thy way; 

And would He then His own side pierce, 

Set his own laws at variance, 

By holding thee from that thou lovest? 

II. 
Still let hope live; for time a period is 
In which are wrought changes marvelous; 
And barriers which seem eternal. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 41 



Are really only transient. 

Let hope come forth again; 

For though it may seem dead 'twill live again 

If thou but breathe upon it. 

in. 

No power of man can truly die, 
Save by his own rash act — 
By wilful choice that it should end, 
Or silent, awful, sad neglect. 

BOATING 

From out a mossy, scented bank 

A lovely, gilded boat doth glide. 

Two lovers from the cup of beauty drank — 

A man of calm, majestic mien, and his promised bride. 

He strong, reliant, plies the oars. 
The keel with each proud stroke the waters cleft. 
She holds the dainty helm, and deftly steers 
Their course with gentle grace — the woman's gift. 

Sweet music in their hearts was there. 
The glad, full song of the spring of life. 
All other beauty was to them less fair 
Than that of their love, so glad and rife. 

Wrapped in delight they sat. His oars then fell 
A moment idly; and in playful dalliance they ride, 
And rock on the dimpling wave; for beauty's magic spell 
Steeped their senses till they drooped, in sweet langour to 
confide. 

Then heart to heart soft spake their yearning love. 
By some sweet way to hearts that are faithful known ; 



42 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



As if each to each thoughts reflect, as flowers wave, 
And see their own fair faces in limpid waters shown. 

Green tufted islets here and there 
The waters studded, emeralds in crystal band. 
They too, like the broad leaved plants, in the dreamy air, 
Seemed rising and falling on the gentle swell, blown by 
a gentle wind. 

Around their edges like a silken fringe, water lillies grew. 
Fair emblems of purity, sweet and mild. 
To pluck and wear them they seemed inviting you. 
With a plea like the outstretched arms of a little child. 

They gathered the lillies in clusters fair. 
Nor suffered their beauty nor sweetness to fade, 
That they might shed their blessings otherwhere. 
Where suffering and sorrow sorely laid. 

"We shall be late if we longer stay," 
The voice of the woman thus first was heard. 
Like sweet strains of music which to our senses stray. 
And inweave with our dreams, such joy her accents 
stirred. 

Then waking from happy dream to a happier reality. 
With merry laugh, he dips the oars; and a purling trail 
From the carved prow, of pearls like gems of royalty, 
Shimmer on the water as home they sail. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 43 



QUERIES 

Why must the heart be ever giving, 

And denying; 
Divide itself apart while living? 

E'er belying 
Its own reason, its desire, 

Its choosing? 
Live but a season? Durst not aspire? 

Be ever losing 
Most of conscious purposing, 

And hoping? 

It in vexed inquiries doth launch us, 

Still cherishing and groping 
After truth. Why should be that 

Loving, and cherishing, 
It must its exquisite realities be proving 

By perishing? 
Like beautiful things which by paining 

Only know they live. 

Why chance it that self's gaining 

Reveals the haggard masks. 
Fleeting phantoms and vagaries. 

Taunting with 
Sad greeting? The beggaries 
Of disappointment. Still I with reverence 

For leading, 
Inquire what laws require deliverence 

By bleeding 
From rule of self. Why do endless 

Sorrows, sad failures 

Crowd our days? 



44 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



ENGLISH TOMMY'S REPAST 

He was a sheepherder with but one arm. 

When in town he drank freely of what did warm, 

And yet inebriate. He said to his boss 

"I am hungry," who replied, "Go across 

To the restaurant and I will pay 

For your dinner." Tommy said, "Nay. 

Get me some crackers, and an onion raw 

Ard I will show townsmen what they never saw — 

How a sheepherder eats." The boss provided 

Crackers and onion, when Tommy decided 

He needed salt. There stood before the store 

A lump of rock salt weighing a hundred or more 

Of pounds. A handful from this the boss chipped off 

With his knife and gave to Tommy, who with rough 

Manner, and glare as of beast from a den, 

Munched crackers, onion, salt for learning of men. 



A QUEST 

One I had loved, 

And happj'^ had been, 

Till this question proved me 

"Lovest all men?" 

So forth hath my heart gone 
To learn v/here the v/ay, 
That love may be sent on 
And gain widest sway. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 45 



KEEPING SALOON 

Banjo Bill when leaving town 

To be gone a day or two, 

To a pair of young friends said "Keep my saloon 

And you may keep the revenue." 

There was then living in the town 

A bull-whacker, one of whose legs was bent, 

Jimmy Osgood, of local renown. 

Who used his credit as far as it went. 

While asleep in a lodging house one night 

The pillow came open, Jim's head went in; 

He awoke, and picked feathers on learning Ms plight — 

As near to an angel as he grew, I ween. 

Of Tom and Jerry the boys made a bowl, 
A special fine for their patrons that day. 
On credit Jimmy drank it up, all. 
And his large obligation never did pay. 



A PRAYER 

Father but continuance give 
Of what here I feel and know. 

1 ask no sweeter bliss than just to live 
With Thee as here, and Thy will do; 
For even here the joyous chorus 

Of a coming, better age, 

Finds an echo in our song. 

When no longer men will mar the page 

Of life, as it grandly moves along. 



46 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



YEARNING 

Rest, my darling, rest; 

And this heart shall be thy pillow. 

Its throbbing shall be turned to music, 

Soft and soothing, 

Which shall lull your tired spirits 

Into realms of happy dreams, 

Where the soul forsakes this mortal clay. 

And takes its flight 

Through bowers of light. 

On wings of love, 

Into the bliss of eternal day. 



ON THE FALL OF A FRIEND 

Drunken again wert thou? 

So I have been told. 

Sunken again below the grade of beast. 

Polluted by a nauseous filth 

More foul than slime beasts wallow in, 

Pursuing their vilest habit. 

Yet I do not condemn thee, 

Nor still do I condone thy fault; 

For thou hast said in sim'lar state, 

That "All man's deeds both good and bad, 

Are judged of God," whom 

Thou knowest that He is. 

Then the thought doth struggle: 
How equal doth the pure and foul 
Hold place within the heart of man. 
And in man's world. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 47 



The line dividing them is as the line 

Dividing sunlight from the shadow; 

A step well nigh invisable, 

Is all we need to bear us 

From the blessed sweets of purity, 

To the rancid mire of foulness. 

How swift the growth of sinful resolution! 

As swift as sight it seemeth. 

And how fast the fall ! 

One moment we may cast our vision upward 
And see a man in all an angel's comeliness, 
And the next cast down our eyes in horror, 
And see him spaces hurled below, 
Distort with all the ugliness of demon. 

How faint the bounds oft seem 
E'en in the lawful things of life — 
To cross a line is wrong, excess. 
It often seemeth that 
The very luxury of good, of life. 
Will lead weak men astray. 

I saw a tree so fully laden 
With sweetest, luscious fruit 
That its limbs were broken, 
And the fruit was lost. 

Thy fall almost doth make me say 

"It is no use to strive to help you more.'* 

Yet thy claim upon me is the truth 

Thou art a brother man. 

Helpless bruised, enfouled — 

Thy need is thy petition. 



48 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



TO A FARMER 

He: 

"The winds have blown away the rains. 
The winds are ill. Drouth dries the veins 
Of every growing thing. What worth the pains 
Of planting?" 

Answering Voice: 
"0 do not chide the winds; 
For, as the trusted guide who finds 
The water fails, mid desert sands, 

Have they returned to bring you more, 
Knowing that their vessels bore 
Too little for your needs before." 

And so the faithful winds blew still, 
Unheeding all man's plaint of ill. 
And larger did their vessels fill 
For his refreshing. 



ETERNITY 

O have you heard a master player 

Caress his charmed lyre? 

And out his bursting passion pour 

In a yet more charmed air? 

And felt the sweet, ecstatic power 

In soul, by his music overbore? 

And still, when changing years are gone. 
Doth not the memory sweet remain? 
But should time or death the memory dim, 
Reality a being eternal may claim. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 49 



Then sing in triumph when by doubt oppressed, 
When from you your faith scoffers would wrest; 
For conscious delight, or knowing, or pain. 
Are pillars for witness we may turn to again ; 
And from heart and mind that truth have known, 
Ca 1 never be taken what once has been. 



OUT OF DOORS 

Hear the murmur of the waters 
As they softly glide, and mingle; 
See rise and fall so gently 
The limpid, tender bosom. 
Like the soft, convulsive motion 
Stirred in a sleeper's happy dream. 
Feel the balmy south wind kissing 
Cheek, and fern and nodding flower. 
See the warm and golden sunlight 
Bathing all with mellow splendor. 
View the flowers along the border 
Drooped in artless admiration 
Of their own reflected beauty. 
As, not enough were matchless beauty, 
They murt multiply their charms. 
Now are fainting senses bathed 
With a spray of richest odors. 
Hear the wood bird in the arbor — 
Pure delight expressed in music — 
Hush his voice a while and listen 
While the vibrant wings of silence 
Waft his song with cadent motion 
To the farthest leafy recess; 
Then, ere it dies, he swells his throat 
And pours again his bursting air. 



50 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Meeting, mingling, and confusing 
With his uttered song new measures 
Till nature's vast can scarce contain 
All the luxury of such beauty. 



SALVATION 

escape they sin, dear erring child; 
For thine endless torment sad would be, 
Thy pure desires, nobleness, love and constancy 
Must be associate forever with baseness, lust, de- 
pravity. 
The noble light of purity and rectitude 
That shineth in you. 

Would shine to illumine ulcerous loathsomeness. 
Like a captive thou'd be bounden stout. 
And made to look upon, while thy baser self, 
Like a brutal tyrant, would put thy powers 
To low use, and sickening corruption. 
Thus in twain would thou ever be divided. 

When soars the soul to God, 

Desires the pure, sees and aspires. 

Yet grovels in the meshes of the flesh. 

Which rule to opposite ends, pervert, destroy, 

Is not this torment? 

To escape thou must win thy wayward heart 

Again to ways of purity and honor, by God's help, 

As the artist toils to form shapeless clay 

To the likeness of the image in his thought. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 51 



"IN UNION THERE IS STRENGTH" 

I saw two flowers blooming by the road 

Which tangled in the copse, and stately wood, 

Their dainty stems entwined, making one, 

As though upon one stock they both had grown. 

Their colors dipped and mingled, richly sweet. 

Both bathing in a lotion rare, and deep. 

Till the violet hue of one, the other's yellow tone, 

Though heightened, still blended — showed as one. 

So may thou man, and woman fair, 

Gain each the strength of other, and thine own wear. 



ABNEGATION 

I 
Has she loved me? 
Does she love me? 
So young she seems 
That scarcely can she know 
The power and dignity of love. 

II 

And yet, I fancy, has her love 
Begun to sweetly move within her. 
And creep with blind advance. 
Like the bulbed head of a growing vine, 
(Propelled by no intelligence 
Than the instinct of its nature) 
Which ever pushes onward, and finds 
With sense unerring some rock, 
Or tree to cling upon. 



52 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BL00M3 



III 

So may I forsooth, 

Be to her a rock or sturdy oak whereon 
Her love may twine its tendrils, 
Until they come to bloom. 

IV 

And e'en though my heart may not 
Their fragrance sweetly gather, 
Another heart will bear the blossoms, 
And be gladdened by their perfume. 



CITY AND SOUL 

Part One 

In tropic lands where gentle winds 

Blow soft o'er verdant plains, 

Where with lavish hand sweet beauty spends 

Her choicest art in voluptuous strains. 

By a murmuring rill in a nestling vale, 

A fold in the lap of nature, 

Enwrapped from chill, encircled from gale, 

Where plenty's fair breasts are spilling their nurture, 

In sweet distress, for the gentle press 

Of her own maternal abundance, 

O'ergrowing with moss, enwreathed with grass, 

Is a crumbling ruin. On this mound once 

Stood, rich in gold and freemen bold, 

A city which ruled a fair domain. 

The legend old is often told 

Its waste and ruin to explain. 

Its walls were laid from quarried bed, 

Facades with chiseled beauty shone; 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 53 



So rich her trade her marts were spread 
In many a land and distant zone. 

Its wealth grew more. With added store 

Came pride, and wealth's unrest. 

It made useless wars, and burdens sore 

Laid on vanquished, all poor oppressed, 

Till their hearts were turned. Within them burned 

Rebellious fires, resentment, hate. 

Then rulers learned the truth they spurned: 

A people's love is the bond of state. 

For, when conquering horde with ruthless sword, 

O'er ran their land, and laid it waste. 

No call was heard, no emotions stirred 

To loyalty, the wealth enslaved, and vassal breast. 

She no pity gave, and none would have. 

The despoilers' mailed hand fell sore. 

They none did save, and nought would leave 

Of beauty and glory that had been before. 

But when ruin did brood o'er the place where had 

stood 
The city, like spirit of evil. 
Soft tears were shed, by her spoilers 'tis said, 
For her fall, and her beauty's dishevel. 

In the place of her marts, and halls of her courts. 

Where her glad, merry life had used to flow 

For the sweet ring of harp, and warmth of hearts 

Of her people, as they went to and fro; 

All blackened and marred, but shapeless piles stared. 

Like a look in the face when reason has flown, 

When ear had late heard the hard, cruel word. 

And the pain and despair were fixed as in stone. 

As the soft light played o'er ruin'd colonade 
Grim shadows posed like ghosts of the past; 



54 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



And zephyrs strayed, and faint moan made 

Like the wail of the dead who findeth no rest; 

And wild things come, and find a home 

In places where palaces lordly stood; 

The fields unsown are with tares overgrown; 

And nothing is fair, or fruitful, or good. 

Part Second 

On a glad bright morn, a child was born. 
And round him a halo of rosy hopes shown. 
With tender concern for him did yearn 
Fond hearts, holding his joy over their own. 
To him was given the wealth of heaven, 
A heart and mind for service of good. 
Nature had striven with life's best leaven. 
And made him a child of her happiest mood. 

The rosy years which knew no cares 
Hymned by like the drone of busy bee. 
Till the man appears and bravely dares 
To launch amain on life's great sea. 
And fortune poured from bursting hoard, 
Rich gain in trade for industry's coin; 
For ne'er hath fared a toiler hard 
Who doth the right with effort join. 

Ere long his store brought ease and power. 
And then rich blessings turned a curse. 
Like manna pure, the which, if more 
Than need were kept, bred worms and worse. 

Can a heart know love, or can it move 

With the higher instincts of a beast, 

And life receive, know her who gave 

It life, then smite that gentle, loving breast? 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 55 



Yet God gave all, both great and small, 
Of everything men have or know; 
And in judgment hall, and myrrh and gall 
To his son their love and kinship show. 

His heart grew hard, and cold toward 
His kind who wrought in lowly ways. 
No abundance shared, no hopeful word 
Spoke to those whom sorrows pressed always. 
Then men's hearts turned from him who spurned 
The simple virtue of their toil. 
Then he learned by pain he earned 
That love is existence's wine and oil. 

For in a night, his wealth took flight, 

And left him empty, broken, poor; 

For things of weight and things of sight 

Fill not the soul's depleted store. 

False pride upheld and made a shield 

From pity's soft, refreshing dew; 

And he strong rebelled, and stout repelled 

Kind hearts whom his sore suffering drew. 

But within him cried a heart that bled 
From a wound within its living place. 
Like a captive tied to a stake, and made 
To yield fiendish joy to a barbarous race; 
Or like poor slaves by their master bound 
Who moan in the night for their cruel chains; 
Or winter winds making dismal sound 
As they sigh through caves, and woody lanes. 

If you could weep in sorrow deep 

For the waste of the city fair. 

Your pity sweet, O do not keep 

From a heart that is grieving so lone and sore. 



56 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 

For nature kind doth truer find 

The good, the beautiful use in all; 

And she hath twined as though to bind 

Their hurts, her tendrils soft o'er each broken wall. 

'Tis but a way that she doth say, 
That in all God allows, some beauty lives; 
And waste of fray, e'en a wicked lie. 
To service of good its help must give. 
Do you pity then? Pour in oil and wine, 
And the cruel wound may yet be healed. 
Know the desolation in the soul of man, 
Is sadder than ruin of city revealed. 



FAITH OUT OF BITTERNESS 

Blow, blow, you fleeting, hissing snow flakes, 
Which rise like spray on the spotless waste. 
Ye are companions to my thoughts. 
Yet, however wildly and aimlessly you blow, 
God's winds still point your way; 
And ye shall rest somewhere, sometime, 
In a ravine, or sheltered cove, 
On the bosom of the kindly earth. 
She shall hug you to herself. 
However fancifully you roam. 
Whither shall we flee from God's presence? 



AN INSCRIPTION 

Beneath this lid are treasures hid 
More precious far than gold. 
Within these words, there may be heard 
Sweet strains of love I have never told. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 57 



DIANA'S MIRROR 

I saw 
A little dimpling lake 

Hiding, 
A lovely, tangled brake 

Shading. 

Looking 
Into its limpid, liquid depths 

Quaking 
With timorous, simple modesty, 

Lying 
On its pearly, swelling bosom, 

Playing 
With gentle, rhyming motion. 

Composing 
A harmony, I saw 

Reposing 
There a perfect cosmic miniature; 

A painting, 
(But in daintier, finer lires. 

Tinting, 
But in fainter, softer hues, 

Blending, 
All of tender, lovely beauty, 

Lending 
Perfectness,) of the beauties of the heavens. 



58 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



A WRAITH 

Morpheus, of Somnus born, 

He who rules o'er realms of dreams, 

Forth poured vapors from his horn ; 

And on my senses fell a sleep. 

My spirit loosed soon wandered far, 

In sportive mood 'mid happy scenes. 

My soul was filled with happy thought; 
And in my joy, there came the form 
Of one whose presence pleasure brought. 
As though, obeying a fond desire 
(Which springs in hearts attuned to love. 
And unexpressed has power to move 
The vibrant soul in sweet accord,) 
That drew her to her lover's side. 

She came, I gazed, longed to caress. 
The one whose presence seemed so sweet; 
But when I would have asked a kiss. 
My sweet enchantress fled away; 
And with her passing, passed the spell. 



PARTING 

Thou are departing; 

And does the grief oft oppress thee? 

Wilt thou feel: How little 

Is one heart's sorrow in a world? 

As thou shalt pass in fancy, 

And in form the thousands of men 

Strange to thee, who know not thy qualities? 

Does a jewel shine less brightly 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 59 



Since there are many? 

Does music rise less sweetly 

When it is unheard? 

No. And a heart which lives, 

And feels and sorrows, 

Holds its own lights and music. 

More precious than those of gem or harp. 

Know thy heart goest not a lone way. 

It bearest those of us, thy friends. 



TO ALICE 



I think of you 

When the morning lifts 

The leaden weight of sleep 

From off my eyes; 

And while the day doth fill 

Its golden urn; 

And as the evening shades grow on, 

And the real doth fade 

Into shades of fancy, 

As fades the light; 

Likewise in the night. 

When thoughts are free 

To do their pleasure. 

As an inmate of my being art thou. 
Thou dost come and go therein 
As freely as the sound of music. 
The portals of my soul 
Swing wide for thee. 
As thou art passing; 
As though responding 
To a charmed touch. 
Everything doth conjure thee 



60 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Within my heart — 
The rustling of a woman's dress, 
A smile, a pose, or accent in a voice. 
Every thought doth wander to thee. 
Dear, I often think of you. 



A CITY BY THE MINES 

Sweet are your airs as a breath of love, 

As soft as a touch of kindness. 

Thy gardens are as fair with flowers 

And fruits, as corners of Paradise. 

Thou sittest in a latitude and altitude 

When combined, which make thine influence 

Nothing else than magical, giving health to body, 

And delicious inspiration to the soul. 

Days are bright in other lands. 

Thine have a crystal brightness. 

Seen from the north at close range 

Thy trees, homes, stores, mills and hoists 

Rise in terraces. Thou art 

"A city set upon a hill," and at a distance dost appear 

A gem inset in the robe of nature. 

"As the mountains are round about Jerusalem," 

So a majestic circlet girdeth thee. 

Around whose crags there often play 

Lights and hues which seem let down 

From a fairer, purer world than this. 

Passions base and strong, 

Have roared through you, as fire 

Roars up the throat of a furnace. 

Bawds (for most part) sang and danced, 

While all drank, and strewed their silver 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 61 



In thy "Bird Cage." Yet a few known 

To better fame have played there. 

Thy gambling games had 

"No limit but the ceiling." 

Ruffians quarreled about divisions of unholy pelf 

And shot each other down in squads, 

But molested little honest men. 

These latter made great mines, large enterprises. 

Great suits by great lawyers 

Were tried in thy forum. One has said: 

"The best good fellowship I have ever known 

I enjoyed in these environs." 

Love played here her tender part; and virtue 

Sterner, stronger than is usual stayed. 

And paid the larger part who wooed her. 

Intrepid Schieffelin braved Apache scalping knives 

To discover thee, his "Tombstone," 

As one tauntingly predicted. 

He sleeps on the site of his camp 

'Neath a shapely pile of granites, 

Which one night shielded him from savage wrath, 

Formed like a miner's monument 

That marks the boundary of his claim. 

Some disliking thy lugubrious name 

First proposed Richmond; 

The east end some tried to name New Boston; 

But the spirit of frontier sportsmanship prevailed. 

Men with Midas' touch compelled 

Thy catacombs to up-yield 

Millions in gold and silver; 

But thou, like nursing dam. 

Gave thy treasure to build other cities. 

And art thyself left desolate. 



62 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



THE BIRD CAGE 

One story will suffice to guage 

The character of the old "Bird Cage," 

To Lewis' Wolfville Stories known, 

A variety theater in quaint Tombstone. 

A young doctor lived in San Jose, 

Who wooed a maid with the poesy 

Of love; who gave her heart 

Upon exchange of vows they should never part. 

She gave to him her virtue too 
In the fond belief he would be true; 
But when his passion he did sate 
He left her to the saddest fate. 

The lessons learned from him so well 

She practiced with others, and speedily fell, 

Because her love had been so high, 

A space like the span from earth to sky. 

He came to Tombstone, and soon she 
Came also, feeling where he was she must be. 
He practiced medicine, was respected, 
And, of course, his erstwhile love neglected. 

Possessed of grace and beauty rare 
She was much sought after. Frenzied despair 
Made her wildly wanton — so deep her hurt. 
She danced on the stage clad in a short shirt. 

When the doctor saw the sad wreck he had wrought 

Belated, for reparation, he thought 

To marry her, and did. "Outrage 

For him to marry a woman out of the 'Cage.' " 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 63 



His friends said. But he told his part 
In her fall. They did soon depart 
For San Francisco. Though she had 
Now her love, her past so vile and sad, 

Was more than her weary soul could bear ; 
And in their hostel, when a deep despair 
Enveloped her, so for release her spirit cried, 
She took poison, and by her own act, died. 



A HYMN 

How often, 'mid trials, 

The Saviour's hand has led me ! 

His love, 'mid denials. 

Still tenderly has fed me. 

How much should I love Him, 
And do His holy will! 
None else is above Him. 
May my soul He fill. 



THE MASTODON OF CURTIS' FLAT 

Great beast of an enormous age ago. 

Thy great height, and bulk, and power^ 

Must have mated other forces of thy time. 

Creature of a manless age. 

Late man has called thee "Tit-Tooth." 

What were thy thoughts about a name? 

What flashes of consciousness had'st thou? 

What scenes looked you upon? 

Upon what plenteous forage to support 



64 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Thy great frame didst thou feed? 

What lesser creatures didst thou dominate? 

What enemies more powerful 

Brought terror oft in sleeping, waking? 

What uses then had your ten-foot 

Tusks of ivory? What commerce sought 

To utilize you and your possessions? 

So long, long, long ago you lived 

You must have been nearer God than we are. 

The earth then was vastly newer, fresher. 

Did vaster, freer thrills you course through 

Than are permitted to us men? 

And was thy giant form product of such boons? 

Sure thou filledst a place, supplied a link 

In God's great endless plan of creation. 

Thou wert happy, useful, tired and sad. 

We restless, seeking, inquiring men 

Wish some power enduring as your swampy bed 

Could have preserved thy thought, 

The songs thou heardest, the scenes thou sawest. 

Perhaps they would not have been so different 

From those our imaginations create, 

Yet we long to know, to see, to hear. 

We are glad you stayed to our time 

Fellow creature, fellow worker. 

It is a pity though that only the perishable 

Of you remained; but it must be, 

Since clay and rock are friendly 

To their brother mold, 

The Creator of us all has made a place, 

And means provided, wherein, whereby to store 

The finer, eternal stuff in you and me. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 65 



A DREAM 

A season of failure had over me swept 

Awearied I laid me down and slept. 

I dreamed I labored with tools and team, 

Dusty and heavy the work did seem. 

At last I looked on a smooth, plowed field, 

I said: "Some other can make it yield." 

A road ran over a high steep hill. 
Standard, with cut, and drain and fill. 
My labor had finished it also, new, 
For comfort and use of me and you. 

A little field, a short stretched road; 
Yet a yield of grain, a lightened load, 
A little home, a plain marked way 
Were left to others from my work day. 



THE DESERT 

I may not sing of English copse. 

Or sweet-filled haunts. 

Of tarn, or woodland 

Or fresh plowed, billowy fields; 

But may of deserts far reaching, 

Barren as tho' cursed. 

Yet like a virgin unwed 

Hiding all increase of loveliness 

In her bowels. 

Spanning spaces like another 

Still, dead sea; 

Of mountains like Horeb 

Majestic, ranged around 



66 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



In great, uneven parapets, 

Giant built of old; 

Of creeks which slyly creep 

Over the surface a while, \ 

Then silently sink away; 

Of bear grass tufts. 

And rabbit haunts. 

Like little cave cities, 

Scooped out in wind reared mounds; 

Of mirage, trembling in well nigh 

Viewless waves, but filling 

All the valley with its deep, 

Transparent, airy, sun-warmed flood; 

Of sunset glories; 

And rainbow tinted hills; 

Rough crags which seem 

Great wrecks of older building, 

Beat down irregularly 

By relentless tides of time. 

Yet standing, serene and restful, 

Like sentinels keeping watch 

Over a sleeping past. 

Though it is an Ishmael land 

Where every plant's grim, spiny hand 

Is against every man; 

Yet the Chollas rear their seven candle sticks; 

The Ocatillos bear aloft their torches, 

And march in serried ranks 

Up the treeless slopes; 

The Yuccas, like sentinels 

Wrapped in military cloaks, dot all the plain, 

Standing faithfully on guard; and at flowering 

Each yields a bushel of creamy blooms. 

The tang of pungent perfumes 

Reacts on the senses like a stimulant. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 67 



And the mocking bird finds not time 

To sing her bliss in long summer days; 

But awakes often in the beauteous, moonlit nights 

From melody overflowing from her mouth. 

Truly, the desert has subtle charms. 



SUGGESTED BY A DREAM 

After the flight of years 

A noble soul is like an old jewel case. 

Within there are found many things 

So small they would else be scattered, 

Trodden under foot and lost; 

But having safe asylum in their case 

They lie, small, yet most precious 

Of all one's possessions. 

Some may be dislodged from their mountings, 

May be chipped on the edges; 

Yet still they remain the rarest. 

Most beautiful, most precious 

Accumulations of the soul. 



THE IDEAL AND REAL 

I have craved leisure 

In which to meditate ; 

Pursue truth, beauty 

And high emprise. 

I have been granted the boon 

Of glimpsing such beauty 

And thinking such exalted thoughts 

Possible, as I sawed wood; 

Or listened to the quarrels 



68 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



And troubles of people 
In practice of the law; 
Or made abstracts of tangled titles. 

I have tried to listen to music, 

Soft, trembling on the strings. 

And have had interjected 

The puff of an engine, 

Clang of a cow bell. 

Thump of a blacksmith's hammer, 

Bray of jackass, cock's crow, dog's bark. 

And all a neighborhood's prosaic sounds. 

I have craved love. 

Big, generous, uplifting. 

I have found pettiness, suspicion. 

If one is willing to stoop 

To lust, nonsense, the dance, 

The drunken joy ride, 

The course is easy. 

But if one has ideals, 

Walks in paths of purity, 

Thinks things worth while, 

He need not look for love there 

(Except the love of God) 

For love's wings are glued to earth 

By sordidness. 

Gold, it is said, has cost more 
In human effort and outlay, 
Than it is worth; that is, 
Match expenditure of all men 
In its quest, with the visible supply. 
And more has been expended 
Than has been realized. 
You say "Unwise methods, 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 69 



Unwisdom in expenditure, 
Bungling, are responsible." 
So incongruous necessity, 
Harsh, grating noises. 
Low, silly customs. 
Shut us from great, lovely things. 
And make them seem to cost 
More than they are worth. 



MIKE, THE CROW 

When but a wee fledgling Mike was caught. 
Was straightway to the city brought. 
And soon became quite reconciled 
To be the playmate of a child. 

Dick, Mike's owner, thought it quite funny 
To let Mike filch from his pocket money. 
Lifting a dollar, Mike knew its use to perfection, 
And to church tower flew to put it in the collection. 

Whatever things that Mike could fetch 
Were brought home. It is no stretch 
That the inner tube of a bicycle tire 
Mike brought home safely, to the owner's ire. 

Long Mike was treated and named as a male, 
Till a thing happened which makes a strange tale; 
A stick nest was built, such as crows like, 
Then all knew Mike must be Mrs. Mike. 

A lady planted her garden seed 

With Mike for company. Mike gave close heed 

Just how and where each seed was placed, 

Dug them up, had her wings clipped, was disgraced. 



70 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Wherever she was fed Mike returned, 
A little dog's bark she unaided learned; 
When the butcher gave no heed to her caw, 
She barked, till he to her needs saw. 

When her owner walked along the street 
Mike flew to his shoulder in order to greet 
Him. Against his lips she placed her beak. 
And thus her love would mutely speak. 

She flew at liberty about the town. 

And such was her wisdom few did frown 

At her petty misdeeds; but a miscreant wild 

Shot her. He might most as well have shot the child. 

Dick, with the aid of his sisters and brothers. 

Hollowed a grave, just as do others 

Who lose a loved one, and buried their pet, 

With an ache in their hearts they will not soon forget. 



TWO CIVILIZATIONS 

Out just beyond the city's line 

A civilization new I find; 

Yet more ancient far than men can boast, 

That of insect, beast and feathered host. 

Each rules himself. They have no king. 
Nor jail, or scaffold; and no such thing 
As vice. Their sexes mingle but to breed. 
Only men are vile, and such corrections need. 

If they are not marshalled for defense, 
Neither fear they organized offense. 
Though they singly on each other prey. 
They outstrip men but a little way. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 71 



They have the freedom of disorder in their wider domain; 
But are artists and architects in things which pertain 
To their homes. The silk lined portals of the spider's den, 
The bird's woven nest, mock the cunning of men. 

What prima donna in opera grand 

Can sing like a mocking bird, as she doth stand, 

On topmost twig, or straight up leaps on white disc'd 

wings, 
In the same spot lights, and in ecstasy sings? 

The coyote's yodle and frenzied yell. 

Bird obligato to the monotonous trill 

Of crickets for orchestra, frog's croak, killdee's call, 

Are without the scope of men's notation, all. 

For transportation, conservation see squirrel, ant, rat; 
An ant which covers wood, refuse, with mud veneer that 
Affords shelter, mellows food; and the bee 
Which uses aerial transport better than we. 

They have beauty of plumage, fur and wing; 
And a worm which, dying, curls, a humble thing. 
Leaves carved lines of beauty on its fragile shell, 
A human artist can scarce excel. 

They court and mate, work and play, 
Are sick and well, sad and gay. 
Why, more of their secrets do I not reach? 
I am a foreigner, and know not their speech. 



72 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



JAMES EDWARD ELLIOTT 

Scarce four months with us you tarried 

Until your infant spirit hurried 

Back to God. Or, did you only vaguely draw 

Heaven's curtain, till you saw 

This world of toil, and grief and pain, 

And in Paradise shrink back again? 

Although you were so small a child 

Your sister said that thrice you smiled 

Before you left. May it not be 

That angel children, with celestial glee, ^ 

Had grasped your tiny hand and said, 

**Come with us?" While we mortals thought you dead. 



CONSERVATION 

Forces of destruction are withal 

True conservators. Water drowns, 

Mud mires; but a shell, a bone 

Is sheltered eons long in a crevice, 

Or by surrounding mold, becoming parts 

Of strata miles in thickness. 

Vesuvius, with great convulsions, 
Spewed forth hot lava flows 
Which buried fair Pompeii; 
But saved for us upon her walls 
Are signs of elections then imminent; 
A tavern keeper's urn with water 
Still held within, as when he mixed 
Spicy wines for his lusty patrons; 
And other forms of Roman life were 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 73 



Arrested then and held intact, 
For subsequent instruction. 

Jewish rulers when they placed 
A guard at the tomb of Christ, 
Sought to make sure the proof 
That he arose not; but only clinched 
The fact that he did arise. 

Blind, narrow partisans defeated him 
Who sought to league together 
The governments of earth for peace, 
Thinking they had destroyed his work. 
They have only isolated and preserved it, 
And placed it -^vithin the power of them. 
Or any one, to discover plainly, 
In all time, its true author. 



TRAILS 

A bull shoe, a cast off frying pan, 
A broken shovel, a rusted can. 
Leading to shaft, deserted camp, 
(Cast off as truly,) I saw on my tramp. 

Are these signs all men leave to trace 

Achievements? Is there no place 

Where strewn the relics lay 

Of man's accomplishments? In his day 

A great heart lived and loved. 

Another fought and wrought. Both moved 

On. What signs have they 

Scattered along their lives' dim way? 



74 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Some think he who sought the harlot and the bowl, 

Who strove, who advertised his role 

Lived most. But what of him 

Who kept his virtue deep within 

His own bosom? Who wrought 

Within his spirit's power, and thought? 

Who across man's life's true vale 

Left the imperishable trail? 



DIRECTION 

The soul lives. 

The body is but a bond 

Which binds elusive elements 

In integer; but a circumference 

In which compressed 

Are, elastic and rebellious essences, 

So held to beauty and to use. 

Love must be so confined. 

So have a body, or its elements 

Will fly like heated air 

To every variant point 

Of a cycle infinite; 

And man, limited to direction. 

Can never overtake the fleeting things 

Which compose it; for they 

Will fly before, behind, 

To right, to left, up and down. 

To every opposite, while he 

Goes on one way; and thus 

Will his soul be torn, and toyed with. 

Happier is a laborer 

Content in simple mind, to love 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 75 



And live with one, than is he 
Who wings widest realms, 
With largest mind; but fails 
To love in singleness of heart 
Who lives at eventide alone, 
And dies empty. 



PRAYER 

Many a home knows a sweet uplifting 
And upon many a troubled spirit 
Falls a benediction like sweet night-rest, 
When some one prays. 



THE MINER 

You know him by the heave and bulk of his shoulders 
From hammering the drill, sinking from surface boulders 
To heated regions, in search of the metal 
Which makes engine, or watch, or copper kettle. 

He has a nose for ore, and bores like a mole 

His shaft, drift, winze, upraise, every species of hole; 

And by his candle or carbide light 

Follows lead, stringer, chute with accurate sight 

No less than magical. Of one they do say 

He had driven a drift a long stretch away 

From the shaft in search of ore. His partner did tell 

Him to quit. He replied: "I'll drive it to hell. 

I'll either get silver or cinders." He got the ore — 

A great chute of it — all he hoped for and more. 

An Irish miner once was offered 

A gold mine for sale. If the property proffered 



76 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Proved good, Pat was minded to buy it; 
But before doing so determined by sample to try it. 
When he got his assays he turned it down cold 
Saying, "There is too much waste for the gold." 

He knows every mine from Ajo to Nome, 
Is at home everywhere, with never a home. 
The blast of his powder, his hard, cutting steel 
Get into his nature, until he does feel 
And think like those act. Still he is fair, 
And manly. Miners the bulwark are 
Of some of our greatest industries. They breathe 
Air filled with powder gas, and which doth seethe 
With dust from drill, and muck. They also add 
Tobacco smoke, and all these make sad 
Havoc with lungs. Many a miner, a giant 
In youth, takes "miners' consumption," becomes a suppli- 
ant 
For charity (against his pride) who gave place 
At one time to no one of his race. 

He is a poet, a romancer, not indeed for love 
Of women, though their charms fail not to move 
Him; but in his pursuit of that fair dame 
Called Fortune. No goddess can among men claim 
More devoted votaries than miners make 
In their gold lined dreams of making a "stake." 

He is serious, and in most things well controlled; 

Is deeply in earnest in searching for gold. 

Parasites, and v/ild life follow his wake, 

For he spends just as freely what he freely doth make. 

He may dip into the wild life at intervals, but does not 

pursue 
Such ways as much as some think he must do; 
But is apart from these things, mostly gives his strength 
To what makes of a desert a city, at length. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 77 



THE UNION MAN 

Since God made Eden and set man to dress it 

The most valuable thing put in earth to bless it 

Is labor, a union of brain and hand. 

By it cities arise; and the barren land 

Is made to yield. Even Almighty God 

By labor made all things which he called good. 

Since of so great worth men seek to possess it; 
Have waged wars, hunted slaves, in order to impress it. 
Of late those whose learning has raised them above 
Their unschooled fellows, forgetful of love, 

Seek by means less crude, but as cruel to exploit it; 
At a starvation wage assert they have "bought it." 
Too much the rich frame governments, enact the laws, 
Select the courts; and their money employs 

Skilled counsellors, who enforce laws, plead and construe 

them 
To serve the interests of the rich, who thus view thenx, 
They control the press, and bias the teacher. 
And their gifts sometimes will silence the preacher. 

Here the worker arose and laid his great strength out. 

With clear thought he saw his true state at length, but 

Not the finesse of the close knit plan, 

Worked out for his governance by his fellow man. 

Outclassed in all tests of skill, they bereft him 

Of more rights. Using the powers his training had left 

him. 
He struck out, though blindly at times. 
More patent to all were the marks of his crimes; 

For the bleeding stumps from his dynamite can 

Are more shocking than wealth's victims, white and wan, 



78 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Who starve in silence, and far away, 
Nor expose their poverty to light of day. 

He has learned to think as well as his employer; 
Is now more the builder, and less the destroyer. 
It's a shame that each does the other harm. 
For the two are Industry's right and left arm. 

He has given to labor a high and firm standing ; 
And he is half imbecile who insists on disbanding 
His union. Let labor and capital together endeavor, 
And peace and prosperity are assured forever. 

THE POLITICIAN 

He is not so bad as to offend the good. 

Nor so good as to offend the bad; 

Is a fair average of those he represents. 

Powerful in opposing right newly recognized, 

Weak in opposing prevalent wrong. 

He follows the crowd he pretends to lead; 

Like low voters in olden days 

Who had to look into their hats 

Before they knew their names. 

He must look into the public mind 

Before he knows his own; 

Look into the public conscience 

Ere he hears any voice of his own. 

He seeks his office for honor, 

Yet is usually the abject tool 

Of some hidden, brutal combination. 

His promises embrace the earth. 

His achievements rattle in a thimble. 

He promises one thing, performs another. 

"A horse is a vain thing for safety," 

And a politician is a vain dependence. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 79 



PAIN 

What kinship exists between 
The hours of night and pain? 
That while the first so slowly drag, 
The other plies its sore fatigue? 
Dark spirits must night hours infest; 
For, till dawn chases them into the west, 
The tortured find no relief in rest. 

Of old men believed that all disease 
Was caused by demons, who fret and tease 
Men's nerves and flesh, with impish spite. 
Who in veins and joints their battles fight. 
The sufferer who can do naught but wait, 
Aside, while heat and throb, fit brood of hate, 
Charge and counter, thinks they were right. 



CLOUDS 

Some will think my fancies wild ; 
But ever since a little child 
Clouds for me have held a charm; 
And, since none they will ever harm, 
I will write some down. I see 
In them a never failing beauty. 
Though ever changing, there remains 
Always beauty, which disdains 
All the powers of air can do, 
Since, in all change, it functions true. 

That speech of form, hue or attitude 

Is not confined to life, may be a platitude; 

But from serene, or stately pose 

Of cloud, my soul takes dignity, or repose. 



80 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Fleets of white Argos, which have sailed 

In search of the Golden Fleece, and failed 

Not in their quest, are heaped 

High with shining fleeces, reaped 

From Colchis' sheep. Figure heads 

Adorn their prows; and o'er each spreads 

Its snowy sail. And there flee 

Before them, on, or above the azure sea, 

Beasts and beings of strange form. 

Bearing to us the prophetic charm 

That they presage still other realms 

Than ours, where creative force o'erwhelms 

The forms we know. It is the sphere 

Of fancy, and of change. Clear 

Appear forms, visages, then 

Are changed to other beasts or men ; 

And, wearied with rigid forms and rules. 

We long for change — that fairy tools 

Might carve and mould with as much ease 

Our life forms, to models as we please. 

Men's works, however vast, still fail 

To satisfy, to reach the scale 

Of greatness, and glory they demand. 

By which need, we understand 

They must associate with Deity, 

Ere their souls will know satiety; 

But a splash of color which doth span 

From horizon to horizon, can 

Satisfy. Or a fluffy berg may tower 

To such exalted height, it wields a sim'ler power. 

As a poet's imagination is a cloud-flecked sky, 
Where form and formless with each other vie. 
What a riot of colors, too, doth the sense delight, 
As the daylight shades slowly into night! 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 81 



That all is beauty the mind doth know ; 

And the undefinable is as fair I trow 

As what is reducible to form or hue. 

That distant, unfathomable blue, 

Afar, as a lodestone, draws the soul; 

And other colors typify the whole 

Of life: The innocence of babyhood, the white; 

Pink, the years of ruddy youth's delight; 

Crimson, passion's ardor of mature years; 

Maroon, post-meridian's cooling fires; 

And gray, the time of life's approaching night. 

Then the moon sheds forth an other-worldly light. 



SOCIETY 

Average people in their social contact 

Instead of holding ideals, which straightly react 

To leaven the lump, or savor the mass, 

Look shrewdly around, each trying to guess 

What the other is doing, of good or of harm. 

In order that to either they may smugly conform. 

They act like little pigs in the cold weather. 

Each one tries to snuggle under the other. 



AT FIFTY 

While a child the hum of fly and drone of bee 

Loosed my fancy, and oft led me 

Forth on fancy's wings to thread the wider place 

They thronged; and join the care free race 

Through mystery and romance. This their hum 

Of wing meant to me. Through the sum 

Of half a century's years I have gone. 



82 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



With such wings as my soul possessed; done 

For most part my best. Sipped such flowers 

As my region furnished; entered bowers 

Of mystery, love and romance. Still 

The hum of fly, the drone of bee, fill 

Me with the same vague dream. 

True, some of children's mysteries now seem 

Plain to me; but in life's great sphere 

I am as much a child as in yesteryear. 

Though mistakes and failures many I deplore, 
They have been, since I was little more 
Than twenty-one, within, and overruled by might 
Of high resolve. I have been, am facing right. 

I believe in romance, mystery and love 
As of yore. My heart will move 
As freely now to these as ever; 
And I am glad; and hope that never 
Shall I lose them. Not much of wealth 
Or power, or wisdom have I. Health 
Of body, mind and soul are mine. 
No wife, nor child, whose love refine. 
Have I gained; but the powers God gave 
Me, disciplined, and organized I have 
Intact. I am free to do right. 
Thus I face, in life's never ending flight, 
My future, both here, and hereafter. 



REFLECTION 

She looked into his heart 

(O Mirror rare.) 

After drawing its veil apart. 

And saw her face reflected there. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 83 



A RHAPSODY 

When love is true each fond embrace 

Creates for two hearts a new Paradise. 

All sorrows, longings and desires 

Are fused into harmony in its sacred fires. 

Thus mixed is the fire of the spirit with clay 

That life on the earth may continue alway. 

When toil and care almost overwhelm 

Love withdraws the spirit to another realm, 

Or, guides it into deep, hidden retreats. 

Far from life's coldness, and hardness and cheats; 

To storied isles, where stately piles 

Rear their carved facades, 

'Neath fragrant groves, where myrrh and cloves 

Spread their spicy shades. 

Love is metempsychosis in life. 

Wife's soul enters husband, and husband's the wife; 

Yet are not fixed, but freedom retain 

Sans restraint, to enter, and return home again. 

While it merges two lives into one, it is true. 

It also should broaden one life into two. 

Exteriors are not what attract and repel, 
But love is contented sweetly to dwell 
Where gentleness, faith and fineness abide, 
Though warts and moles may cover the hide; 
And leaves a fair form, and cheeks that are red, 
Where oppression, meanness and coarseness are hid. 

By giving love we love obtain; 

But the two parts equal do not remain: 

They rise to a summit between the two. 

So that more than the sum of its parts, is true. 



84 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



She has her abode upon a high hill 
Whence she draws all who loves urge feel; 
And unless her high appeal prevails, 
Then, most surely, true love fails. 

Love must be an air from on high 
Which, as fleecy barges of the sky 
With refreshing vapors laden sail, 
Bringing help to living things that fail. 
Sweeps heart and mind and bears away 
Emotions, thought, far, deep and high, 
To bounds of tenderness and truth. 
Of romance, and the dreams of youth. 
Like to gilded fringes of the clouds; 
And then, astern the soul's ship crowds 
All sail, to a higher, fairer land, 
And leaves the soul on its golden strand. 

As gentle rain to a drooping flov/er 
So love's delights to a sad soul are. 

Old loves are encysted in the soul 

They lend their aid, but no more control. 

Man and woman trade in kind in love's fair mart. 
Woman's tenderness for man's strength, pass current 
in the heart. 

Love is a power on which the soul doth ride. 
Like a thing which saves the body from an angry tide. 
Or again, one spirit reclines on the other 
As an infant rests on the arms of its mother. 

A heart disappointed or bereaved 
Is like a forest where have raved 
Fierce fires, leaving spaces and blackened stumps 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 85 



Where stood trees in open ranks or clumps; 
But as nature restores the forest's green, 
So love makes beautiful the heart again. 

If one is loved and by neglect 

Such love is lost, the defect 

Is dual: He has lost the love bestowed. 

And that which from his own heart flowed. 

It seems a mortal thing when one lets love die, 

For gruesome, charnel things within the soul lie. 

The heart craves love as a babe does food. 
Each sucks as hungrily what brings it good ; 
Though many grow unlovely in quest of love — 
Unselfishness is submerged, while self rides above. 
Love is near neighbor to all things fair — 
Moonlight, sweet scent and soft air — 
But to all hearts a sister dear. 
To her e'en angels hover near. 

Love is so high and fine a force. 

As conductor man's nature is so coarse 

That when love comes frankly to a human heart, 

It is abashed, may bid it depart, 

Or dissembles, and love departs rejected; 

Like when brilliant light is suddenly reflected 

Upon eyes accustomed to the night, 

They recoil, close, turn from wholesome light. 

So, seldom does love in a straight course flow. 

But obliquely — the one you love does not love you. 

It hath a method which one may know, 
And cause its sweet currents to a dear one to flow. 
An emotion once felt the soul tends to repeat, 
And love between two a plain path will soon beat. 
Concerning life's course it makes one wise. 
To invade shy hearts it boldly tries. 



86 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Love at fifty is as young 
As he was to sweet sixteen; 
For from Deity has he sprung, 
And never will grow old, I ween. 
If late our bosoms have grown cold 
So we no longer feel his dart. 
It is ourselves who have grown old. 
The rosy cherub still plies his art. 

Love works an alchemy rare to behold, 
For it turns the base and the common to gold. 
It mingles the essence of two souls in one 
Like waters of two fountains, shot through by 

the sun. 
It unites all soul powers like temper of bell, 
So all voices in chorus harmonious swell. 
It makes the soul also courageous and leal, 
In this more resembling the temper of steel. 
Heart strings with tingling joy are stirred, 
As though gently down golden flakes were poured. 

liike birds of Paradise which flit in the forest, 
And songsters which sing to the lead of a chorist, 
The loves of those who are dearest and best, 
Flit, and sing of beauty, within a fond breast. 

When lust is gained, and purity lost. 
The low is obtained at the highest's cost. 
Though, through abstinence, the pure is preserved. 
One is richer than though the low were served. 

The softness of down which the eider duck 
From her own throbbing breast doth pluck 
To couch her fledglings ; and the caress 
Of an evening zephyr; the press 
Of a mother's kiss ; the trembling light 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 87 



In a maiden's eyes, bent on her beloved wight, 
But shadow forth the tender deeps 
Of Love, whose kindness never sleeps. 

Love fills the soul with sweetness profuse, 
Like the odors from Mary's alabaster cruse; 
Or as a light in the soul doth arise 
As the sun fills with glory the dome of the skies; 
Or as a soft glory on the spirit doth shine 
Akin to shechinah, the glory divine. 

From the soul's deepest caverns love doth draw 
Sweet vintage of spirit, far hidden below; 
And as balm brings surcease to pain of the flesh, 
Love doth heal soul ache, and the spirit refresh. 

Western mountains at sunset, float in an ocean of 

wine. 
So love bears the soul in an essence divine. 
Intellect, pride, will, such powers of the soul 
Must be cushioned in love, if to wed be the goal. 

Feelings arise from out our hearts 
As mists from off the seas; 
The former nourish other hearts, 
As the latter do the grass and trees. 

Love is the Roentgen ray. 
Heaven is the screen; 
What we love while here we stay, 
In perfect beauty there is seen. 



88 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



ROBERT HOOD REEVES 

You possessed a breadth and tolerance 
Big as the wideness of the west; 
And a gentle charm which won my heart 
Inhabited your breast. 

Although your soul from your body is gone 
My spirit refuses to be depressed; 
But is upborne with a buoyant faith. 
I cannot feel I am truly distressed. 

Whenever it comes my time to go 
Your christian virtues I would rather have 
Than all there is in the world beside. 
You were fit both to die and live. 

You were simple, and so was Christ. 

Your wealth was the love of human hearts. 

All of your fortune you carried beyond. 

Why should there be gloom when a Christian departs? 

Did my spirit go a way with yours? 
Exaltation and freedom I felt. 
All your capacities for joy seemed stretched 
Gently, to fit you to the realm wherein you dwelt. 

Your spirit went with mine at the hour 
We were wont to go to the house of prayer, 
With a joyous hesitance between there and here. 
Christian joys are the same both here and there. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 89 



AN INDIAN ART GALLERY 

No Doric nor Ionic columns form its front, 
Nor are its works in snowy marble wrought. 
Columns, slabs, are granites, which eons bore the 

weather's brunt, 
And for lights the sun's diurnal rays are caught. 

Figures, with obsidian, are pecked on the granite face: 
A man shoots an arrow from a bow; 
Concentric circles, men, anim.als have each a place ; 
Zig zag lines the trail to water sources show. 

Here wrought some Praxiteles in germ. 

Though his figures are conventional, each space and 

dot 
Include an aspiration, a psychic term. 
The striving to express his soul endears the spot. 

Nor may we lightly pass his crude pictures by. 

In his untaught state may it not be 

He took a larger step, in what he thus did try, 

Than the Grecian Master in portraying a Bacchic spree? 



VICARIOUS SACRIFICE 

A Mexican teamster when he drives 
Two beasts, or three, or four, 
Picks out the one that hardest strives 
And him beats, to make him pull the more. 

The man who pays his honest debts 

As usual business goes. 

Must also pay the unpaid debts 

Of the shiftless, else no credit balance shows. 



90 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



Christ, the one who had no sin, 
Who strove with all his strength 
To bring us good, had laid on him 
The sins of all the world, at length. 

How noble doth appear the one. 
Whether beast, or man, or man divine. 
Who knows the injustice, yet doth not shun 
The load, the debt, the cross, in fine! 



A WOMAN 

The big, raw west is a man's land. 

There are mines to be sunk, canals to be dug. 

Its rugged ways repel a woman, as the spiny hand 

Of each Ishmael plant forbids you to hug 

It to you. Each such plant that it may 
Preserve its life, develops a rind 
Impervious to drought and the burning ray, 
And so prolongs and propagates its kind. 

Men may take on the rough exterior. 
Unspoiled women are like flowers which appear 
(Not that they are in any sense inferior) 
Only in the rainy season, the oasis of the year. 



She was born in New England, its culture knew. 

Sang like a bird, loved the old masters. 

To her "Jamie" she gave affection true. 

And they established a comfortable home; but disasters 

Soon followed to their fortune by investment 
In western mines. Sadly she consented 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 91 



To sell their home, and by such divestment 
Go west, and mend their loss. Repented 

She her sacrifice? Not actually. Her 
Love like laws of Modes and Persians altered not 
Once given. She followed her husband where 
He chose, and with his cast in her lot. 

They lost their remaining property. He 
Accustomed grew and hardened to the change. 
And sought the fabled pot of gold. She 
Clung to her culture, and amid conditions strange 

Sought to touch cabin, shack with the wand 
Of a homemaker, and succeeded too 
Measurably; but things most fond 
To her, she missed. In time she grew 

Like a wife who loves and learns to know 

The man she loves is false, and takes 

Refuge in invalidism, or behind a show 

Of disbelief in his guilt — when her heart breaks 

And pouring out its all cannot draw back. 
But lives on, exotic; so she grew "queer," 
Those who knew her said; and in a shack 
From which but cactus, rocks and cans from year 

To year were seen, she confided 

To another woman, "I have prayed to go 

From where my body, not my soul resided." 

That she went before her time, is it difficult to know? 



92 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



HELEN 

Your heart is like an empty house 
Waiting for a tenant. 
In haste I will move in, because 
By doing so I'll own it. 



EVOLUTION 

I startled a sleeping cat. 

Like a flash she leaped on fence, 

Then shed, then barn, whereat. 

Secure, she bent her glance 

On me intently. Our eyes met 

And I was discomfitted. "There shine," 

I said, "all a million years beget, 

And an intelligence older far than mine.' 



JAZZ 

Some one is always taking 
The pleasure out of life 
By nearly always making 
Not for peace but strife. 

I lately saw a photo play 

Of gentle southern life; 

Through tender scenes we heard the bray 

Of jazz both loud and rife. 

Sometimes at shows it's jazz that grates. 
Or else some gossips meet; 
Again a swain to windward sits 
With a pair of stinking feet. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 93 



THE ADAMS NEIGHBORHOOD 

Beauty is an ensemble, has a being, a birth 
Truly in works of art; and that of Mother Earth 
Yields in part to the rule. The flaming red 
Or mellow gold of cactus flowers, the head 
Of the Yucca adorned with a royal plume; 
The granite walled dell — a Cyclops' room — 
The trees, the shade, the steep sloped dome 
Of mountain, which leads the eye from 
The lesser to the exalted, all have a part 
In forming, framing what delights the heart. 

An artist dreams, then puts on cloth or stone 

The being of his dream; but not alone 

Do men thus erect memorials. Christ took 

Familiar meat and drink, and with a look 

To heaven, blessed them, and passing said: 

"As oft as ye partake ye will have made 

A memorial of me;" and in this way 

Men show His sacrificial death till His coming day. 

Beauty, like gold, is where you find it. Each form 
Of beauty is compounded, has a charm 
Peculiar to its elements. A neighborhood 
I know where a quarter century has stood 
A festival as a memorial. Neighbors meet 
Yearly, view sports appropriate, and the sweet 
Of sociability enjoy. It is common to men 
To feel deeply, but less frequent when 
With pains and toil, they reverently show 
Their feeling, and visibly do make men know 
They love and honor one; but here have sister, 

brother 
Reared an institution, a memorial to MOTHER. 



94 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



COMPENSATION 

Her body was twisted by long borne pain ; 
Her face, though refined, would be called plain ; 
But her head was crowned with beautiful hair. 
And in her bosom resided a spirit more fair. 



DANCING 

When Moses came down from the Mount of God, 
Bearing the tables of the law. 
With grief and anger he briefly stood 
Transfixed by what he heard and saw. 

The people danced around a calf. 
"This be our God," they said, 
(I do not wish to make you laugh) 
And dancers of all ages led. 

Such worship folly instead of truth 
And so become depraved; 
Glide in amorous hugs, forsooth, 
And wot not they have misbehaved. 

With dances grand they close the school. 
Make up the preacher's pay. 
Dames give dances who are so dull 
They can entertain no other way. 

On Good Friday Christ upon the cross 

Six agonizing hours hung. 

Decoration Day was planned by us 

To honor the dead from whom we sprung. 

Yet dancers dance upon these days, 

(No sense of fitness them disturbs) 

Though they were meant for prayer or praise — 

That for folly they should furnish curbs. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 95 



I SEEK SOME POETRY EVERY DAY 

I seek some poetry every day. 
On one my portion I had not found 
In Supreme Court in legal fray, 
Nor in the city's busy round. 

In streets the crowds had passed me by 
Nor made my interest rise, 
Till a little old woman, brown and shy, 
Looked at me with appealing eyes. 

Her face was neither rouged nor round. 
But plain and deeply lined, 
Though a rarer beauty than those I found 
In that face so womanly and kind. 

A youthful soul looked through her eyes, 

The lines of love and duty spoke. 

A thirst for high romance she could not disguise. 

And in my soul its poesy awoke. 

***** 
Up a city street came a Papago squaw. 
Timidity, embarrassment writ in her face, 
Who smiled her way comically on I saw, 
As your dog, which, fearing you will make him retrace 
His course, when he disobediently follows you, 
Grins ingratiatingly, half slides along, 
Tucks, then wags his tail, trying to do 
What will atone for all he is doing wrong. 

***** 

I took the day coach on a late train. 

Most all the passengers were sprawling asleep. 

A bald man sat up as I came in. 

Who, a long lock of hair on one side did keep 



96 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



To cover his bald spot the best he could. 
A breeze through the window blew. At that 
The man's long lock straight up stood 
Like a bird wing on a woman's hat. 



What marvelous power unsuspectingly lies 
In a dreamy look in a maiden's eyes: 
Power to change her course and mine, 
If not for eternity, surely for time. 

Mayhap she was seeing then 

A family, new, of women and men. 



A Mexican boy, chubby and brown 

About four years of age, 

As I was crossing a street of the town 

Thus threw down his friendly gage: 

(1) "Quivo," he said. I "Quivo" replied, 

And he and his sisters chuckled with pride. 

He knew me slightly. 

I had impressed 

Him that thus lightly 

I could be addressed. 

This simple faith of the little boy 

Brought to me a quiet joy. 

***** 

A little maid with laughing eyes 

Was taking subscriptions to win a prize, 

A big doll. I subscribed, and we came en rapport. 

Said she, "Mr. Gibson, you're a good sport." 

(1) Pronounced q-v6, and means "Hello" in Mexican. 



PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 97 



SHORTY DABBS 

Shorty Dabbs was on ox-bow knight, 

(A bull whacker in fact), 

Who one day got into a fight 

As the result of a resounding whack 

Given him across the face 

By Gooseneck Charley over cards. 

The proprietor of the place 

And another player served as guards. 

The barkeep took CJiarley by his gooseneck 
Hand over hand, just as do boys 
Choosing up on a bat. To check 
Shorty's advance as he deploys 

Knife in hand, the other steps in. 
"Let me at him," Shorty growled, 
"And I'll work a button hole in him;" 
But being prevented, he stood and scowled. 

Shorty observed things quite a lot, 

Though perhaps his work was not very thorough, 

For he said: "Two things I have not 

Seen, a white-headed Mexican and a dead burro." 



98 PINE CONES AND CACTUS BLOOMS 



THE BAND 

When I was a little boy 

At the sound of the big, bass drum 

I would run a mile for the joy 

Of standing and hearing the measured boom 

Of the big drum, which, to me 
Was nearly the whole of the band ; 
And if, while crowding as close as could be 
The drummer with wide swing of hand 

Me in the stomach struck 

With his drum stick, I 

Was highly complimented, felt luck 

Was mine. You bet I didn't cry. 



INDEX 



Adams Neighborhood, The 93 

Abnegation 51 

Alice, To 59 

An Indian Art Gallery 89 

An Inscription 56 

At Fifty 81 

Band, The 98 

Bird Cage, The 62 

Boating 41 

City Among the Pines, A 7 

City by the Mines, A 60 

Corn Ship, The 9 

City and Soul 52 

Clouds 79 

Compensation 94 

Confidence 40 

Conservation 72 

Control 14 

Desert, The 65 

Dream, A 65 

Dancing 94 

Direction 74 

Elliott, James Edward 72 

English Tommy's Repast 44 

Erranty 11 

Eternity 48 

Evolution 92 

Faith Out of Bitterness 56 

Fancy 34 

Grace 16 

Helen 92 

99 



INDEX 

Hope, To 35 

Hymn, A 63 

Ideal and Real 67 

I Seek Some Poetry Every Day 95 

"In Union There Is Strength" 51 

Innocence 11 

Jazz 92 

Keeping Saloon 45 

Magdalen, A 12 

Mastodon of Curtis' Flat, The 63 

Mike, the Crow 69 

Miner, The 75 

Multum In Parvo 8 

Observed 8 

On the Fall of a Friend 46 

Out of Doors 49 

Pain 79 

Parting 58 

Politician, The 78 

Prayer, A 45 

Prayer 75 

Queries 43 

Quest, A 44 

Reason and Revelation 36 

Reflection 82 

Reeves, Robert Hood 88 

Rhapsody, A 83 

Riddle, A 39 

Salvation 50 

Shorty Dabbs 97 

Society 81 

Solicitude 36 

100 



INDEX 



Suggested By a Dream 67 

Sympathy 7 

Teasing 13 

Three Seasons 13 

To a Farmer 48 

Trails 73 

Two Civilizations 70 

Union Man, The 77 

Vicarious Sacrifice 89 

Woman, A 90 

Wraith, A 58 

Yearning 46 



101 



